


War

by Tricksterburd



Series: Blue and Green Eyes [1]
Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Other, Pain, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tricksterburd/pseuds/Tricksterburd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had seen horrors neither Spine nor Jon had seen since they were in the trenches of WWI.  Spine and Jon had opted to go to the less-battle-heavy divisions just for this reason.  Rabbit hadn’t.  </p><p>Rabbit was stubborn like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own SPG. Written for the "30 day SPG writing challenge" which I haven't been able to keep up with. This is day ten, prompt of "War." It'll have two parts, because it was getting WAY to long to keep as only a oneshot. Part two will be posted probably in three or so days. Probably less.

The message had come on a wet cold night, huddled with the night watch in the rain.  Rabbit had returned to his squad, welcomed warmly despite not being able to speak after his accident.  Spine would send the repaired voice box* along in the post shortly, Rabbit was sure of it.  He was huddled under a blanket against the downpour with five other guys, spitting fire from the flamethrower in his mouth to the small bundle of wood they had gathered to keep them warm.  Rabbit couldn’t feel the cold the way the humans did, but he could feel the rain.  Sure, Pappy could fix any rust that happened to grow in his joints once he got home, but in the mean time it made life difficult when you can’t move your elbow.  A messenger had tromped out in a poncho, passing a yellow telegram to the copper robot, who handed it right back.  Oh, right, can’t read.

Undoing the seal, the young private shouted the message over the beating rain.

“The United States government deeply regrets to inform you of the death of Colonel Peter A. Walter in his San Diego residence on the night of…”  His voice petered off; all eyes on Rabbit as the robot snatched up the telegram, eyes scanning the words he didn’t know.  Pappy had tried to teach him to read, but his AI didn’t accept the programming like Spine’s or Jon’s did.  Jon could read at a first grade level, Spine at a high school.  Rabbit could pretty much make out his name and that was about it, on a good day.  But he tried anyway to read what was on the yellow scrap that had as much emotion as the rain around them.  But it didn’t work.  He couldn’t read it.

So he tossed it.  Into the pile of soaked wood, which he tried to relight once more.  It was a lie.  Pappy would be there when he got home from this hell; he’d be there to clean out the rust that was caked in his joints, the blood that was gumming his fingers, the nightmares and ghosts of pain that kept him from shutting down and resting at night.  Pappy would always be there.

When the bots had returned home from WWII to find their creator gone, Rabbit had shut down.  They had known; they had gotten the telegram same as anyone else would have.  But coming home to a house that no longer held the man really set the facts in stone.  Rabbit didn’t deal with it very well.  Jon had spent the week at the grave, without saying anything, and then he was right as rain and back to his normal bouncy self.  Spine had stood for a moment gazing at the stone before turning and going about life as normal.  Humans came and humans went, he had seen it and accepted it.  Rabbit, though, had shut down.

He refused to visit the grave, sitting instead in the workshop, on the table, waiting.  He’d wait for Pappy to come in and scrape the rust and corrosion out of his joints.  No, Peter the second was NOT going to do it for him, only Pappy could do it.  While Rabbit loved Peter the second and Peter the third, there was no one like Peter the first that could take care of him.

But the Colonel never came.  Rabbit sat on the table for a month before Spine went down to confront him. 

“Rabbit, you can’t sit here forever.”

“Yes I can.”

“No, you really can’t.  You have to move on.  Our creator is gone, that happens.  Humans die.  We saw that in the war.  You can’t brood forever, we have other humans to take care of.  We need to get your joints taken care of.”

“No.”

“Rabbit.”

“No Spine. No one can fix me like Pappy can.  He knows what he’s doing; he knows how he wants me to be.  Others will try to change me into something Pappy didn’t want, and I’m not okay with that.”

Spine knew this was coming.  He had received word before Rabbit had, and he knew how stubborn his older brother could be.  He knew this would happen.  That’s why he had used Rabbit’s original parts when he had fixed him all those months ago.  He knew Rabbit wouldn’t forgive him if he hadn’t.  But this was just stupid.  So Spine picked up a sanding disk, and started on Rabbit’s knee joint.

“Spine stop.”

“No.  I’m not going to let you sit forever down here and rust away.  I may not be Pappy but we’re brothers and I won’t let that happen.” 

They sat quietly as Spine worked on digging out the rust that was gumming up the copper and iron pieces between plates on his leg.  After about ten minutes he switched to the next knee, and as he did he felt a thunk on his shoulder.  Rabbit leaned his forehead on his middle brother’s strong shoulder, shivering lightly.  Spine wrapped his arms around Rabbit’s torso.

And the words poured out of Rabbit like steam.  And not for the first time, nor the last, Spine wished they hadn’t split up the three of them.  Jon had taken up arms with the air force.  Spine had been sent to the Navy.  Rabbit had been in the army, on the ground, with the front lines.  He had seen death, and destruction, and watched as his human friends died around him.  He had been helpless to save them, refused to cause harm to the other side that shot them down in the first place.  He had seen horrors neither Spine nor Jon had seen since they were in the trenches of WWI.  Spine and Jon had opted to go to the less-battle-heavy divisions just for this reason.  Rabbit hadn’t. 

Rabbit was stubborn like that.

“Come on.”  Spine muttered once Rabbit had finally ran out of steam several hours later.  “Let’s get you some water and some rest huh?  It’s been a long war.”

The nineteen fifties came and went, and the nineteen sixties roared in with a life of their own.  Including a brand new war for the robots of Walter Manor to fight in.

Oh, excuse me.  “Police action.”

Not that Rabbit would agree.  It was a war.  Simple as that.  People shot and fought and died and the robots were the ones to clean up after them. 

This, however, was not cleaning up after someone.  This was being part of the mess.

“\Move, faster, faster!\”  The gun was pressed into Rabbit’s head as he followed behind Jon, who followed Spine, who followed three humans.  All of them had rifles pointed at their skulls.  Lovely.  But only one of them could understand what was being said.  Even more lovely! 

During the world wars, the robots hadn’t been programmed with any language centers.  A massive overlook that bit them in the bum hard in WWI, and when WWII came about it was thought that they wouldn’t need it now that they weren’t as primitive as WWI had been.  They had been wrong.  So when they came back they were outfitted with “foreign” languages.  Rabbit had, of course, fought at first.  But he had been allowed to choose his languages and was therefore a bit more willing after a while. 

Spine had taken up the European languages.  From poor dead Latin to Russian, from French to Hungarian, from Dutch to Italian.  It was very useful.  Jon had taken up Africa, India, and South America.  What was nice about this was that both The Spine and The Jon had a version of Spanish, and could collaborate when faced with a mix of old world Spanish and new world Spanish, hinted with Portuguese.  Rabbit had taken all of Asia.  Mandarin, Korean, Tibetan, Tagalog… and Vietnamese. 

Which their captors were speaking right now. 

They were below ground, in roughly hewn tunnels which would later be the foundation of the Cu Chi tunnels.  These were early escapes, ways to start expanding and hiding.  They were being pushed with only faint light from the robot’s eyes guiding them through the maze of half finished pathways, before being shoved into a room-like cavern.  The humans were forced to their knees in the center of the cave, the robots pushed to the back and held at gunpoint.  The leader of their little group stepped forward and pointed at The Jon.

“\We will take this one, and we will learn your secrets metal man.\”  He said.  The ‘bots looked to Rabbit for a translation, but at the moment none came.  “\You will come peacefully.  If not, they will suffer.\”

As though taking a cue, one Viet Cong soldier stepped forward, and shot the American human through the forehead. 

Rabbit watched through horrified, blood and brain splattered optics as the young man (Charlie Shul, 28, freshly married with a set of twins due in September) slumped to the ground. 

“\Do you protest?\”

“Rabbit?”  Jon’s voice shook as he looked to his oldest brother for guidance.  No, no they wouldn’t take Jon.  But the humans.  It was their job to protect them.

“\Yes I protest.  You won’t learn anything from the gold one.  Take me, you will learn more.\”  Rabbit’s voice did not shake, unlike his hands that rested atop his head.  The gun in the second’s soldier’s head harder, but did not fire.

“\Why not him or the silver one first?\”

“\They are complicated.  I am far simpler to take apart and understand.\”

“\What makes you think we need simple!\”

“\It will be easier to move me when you have me in pieces should you need to leave these tunnels.\”  The man seemed to contemplate that.

“Rabbit?  What are you saying?”

“It’s alright Th-Th-The Spine, I have it unda control.”

“Rabbit what-”

“\SILENCE!\”  No one had to understand the language to know what that anger meant.  Everyone fell quiet once more save for the rattling in Rabbit’s boiler and the soft sobs of the two remaining Americans. 

“\We will take the silver one first.\”

“\NO!\”  BANG!  The second human (Richie, 18, drafted just after high school) went down just as Rabbit lunged to stand in the way of the warriors and the other robots. Covered in grey matter Rabbit couldn’t look at the third and final human.  He was responsible.  It was his job to protect the human and his brothers. 

“\Don’t do that!  We’re cooperating!  Just take me first, please!\”

“\Why should I trust you?\”

“\Here.\”

Rabbit undid his uniform shirt, tossing it and his helmet to the side before following suit with his pants and boots.  In nothing but his metal plating, Rabbit reached with his sharp spindly fingers and unlocked the safety to his boiler. 

“\I made it so you can get into my mechanics.  Please, don’t hurt him, and don’t take them.  I’ll go, willingly.\”

“\Take him.\”

“\You have to leave the others, or no deal.\”

“\You are in no position to bargain!\”

“\You kill the last human and we have no reason to cooperate!  We are doing the best we can; I just ask you don’t take them yet.\”

“\I will think on this.  We take you, now.\”

“Rabbit what are you doing?!”  The enemies were taking Rabbit out of the room, leaving the three of them and the two dead humans on their own.  Jon’s voice was shaking.

“Spine, don’t let them take Jon!  The rift, if they get to the rift they can end life as we know it.  D-d-d-d-d-dd-don’t let them get The Jon!  I’ll be back!” And with that, Rabbit was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> * Refers to the fic "Her Name Had Been Jenny" found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/441072  
> Not required for this fic, just posting it so you know it's not canon.


End file.
